Perfectly Imperfect Me

My cleats always sounded,

Loud,

On the way to her room,

Like I was an imposter,

With my healthy body,

And wearing a sweat-stained,

Soccer jersey,

To the room,

Which held,

The best soccer player,

Who would never be able,

To play again.

I would open the door softly,

And she would say,

“Did you dominate?”

And I would smile,

And say,

“For you.”

Because our soccer team,

May have lost it’s captain,

And best player,

But it would never lose,

Her faith,

Her confidence,

And the love of the sport,

She had passed on to us,

Before cancer claimed her.